


affirmation

by bluewalk



Series: 30_onepiece: Sanji [29]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewalk/pseuds/bluewalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[#22 leg] <em>"your face is bent funny."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	affirmation

It’s not that bad, he tells himself. It could be much, much worse. He could have split his skull open instead. He could have knocked out all his teeth. He could have hurt his hands. Worse yet, Patty could have seen him fall. He’d never live that down. He would have to kill Patty and then himself. That would have been messy.

So this isn’t that bad. I mean, yeah, it looks pretty serious and the pain is currently excruciating, but he hasn’t passed out yet and at least he’s not bleeding all over the place. Blood is hard to get out of wood.

Where that leaves him now, he’s not quite sure. He could try standing, maybe he—

Okay. Okay, no. Bad idea. Worst idea. Stay down, kid, he chides himself, stuffing his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming.

A small part of him tries to convince the rest of him that screaming would be a good idea. They’d hear him, and they’d come down to find him. But the majority of him—the parts fueled by testosterone masquerading as “manly pride”—decides it is out of the question. He’s not calling for help. He could totally do this on his own. Yeah. Totally. He’s got this.

He does not got this. It is stupid to think he’s got anything other than pain and a broken leg right now. This is ridiculous. He refuses to believe this is happening.

This is definitely happening. He has just smoked through an entire pack of cigarettes and it is still happening. His leg has not fixed itself. This is the most disappointing day in all his thirteen years of life. The shame is crushing. He’ll have to change his name afterwards.

“Hey, brat. You in here?”

It’s Zeff’s voice. He fights the urge to crawl behind the crates and barrels and hide there forever in the hold. Instead, he says, “No.”

Zeff makes a sound that could either mean he’s irritated or relieved. With Zeff, the two are usually the same. He finds him finally behind a massive barrel of olive oil. Zeff stares for moment, before stating matter-of-factly, “Your leg’s bent funny.”

“I hate you,” he says. “Your face is bent funny.”

Zeff rolls his eyes, nudges the other crates away with his foot. “Seriously, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing. Not like I fell or anything. ‘Cause that would be stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

He says nothing.

“Not that stupid, anyway. Come on, let’s get you above deck.”

“No.” He crosses his arms, blinks back the tears that are definitely not there at all.

“Don’t be a child.”

“I’m _not_ a child,” he snaps angrily. “I didn’t cry at all even though it really, _really_ hurts, and I’m going to get up myself and make it to the deck myself and—”

“You going to splint that leg yourself, too?” Zeff demands. “Put it in a cast yourself?”

Sanji scowls. “Yes! Yes, I will! Just watch me, old man! I’ll prove—” He tries to get up again and crashes to the floor. A yelp escapes him before he can catch himself.

“Idiot!” Zeff growls, kneeling next to him, and he feels as if he really is going to cry now.

“I’m not,” he hiccups. “I’m not. I’ll show you. Just wait.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zeff says, and his voice sounds tight. “Just stay still, all right?”

“You can’t tell anyone else about this,” he sniffles. “No one. Especially not Patty. I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” Zeff sighs. “You don’t hate anyone.”

“They hate me.”

“They don’t.”

“They should,” he says, misguided hostility with a challenge, but Zeff gives him a look that makes him drop his gaze to the floor. The angle of his leg makes him feel sick.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Zeff concedes at last. “Especially not Patty. Who doesn’t hate you. No one does.”

He sniffs again, but he nods, holds his arms out reluctantly. Zeff lifts him in his arms, gets to his feet.

“Could stand to put on a few pounds, boy.”

“Shut up,” Sanji grounds out, concentrating too hard on not sobbing from the pain to say anything else.

Zeff shuts up, small mercies. They make their way back above deck, slowly, and they reach his cabin without running into any of the other cooks. He wonders if that has to do with the “don’t fuck with me” aura that Zeff is currently emanating. It has a pretty impressive radius. He almost feels touched.

Later, when the Baratie’s doctor re-sets his leg, he does not make a single sound, though it feels like he might burst from the effort of keeping it in. He knows that Zeff is outside the door, listening. He’s got something to prove, and he’s going to make sure Zeff knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 31 October 2011

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chinese translation on "affirmation"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/412546) by [renata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renata/pseuds/renata)




End file.
